


Angel With A Shotgun

by Thighkyuu



Category: Supernatural, X-Men
Genre: its long and cringy but its my child so, shhh - Freeform, the destiel is implied - Freeform, yes its a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: Supernatural/X-Men crossover where Reader is an angel - a very unconventional, non-standard angel - that hunts with Sam & Dean and falls in love with Peter.





	Angel With A Shotgun

**_Get out your guns,  
_ _Battle’s begun.  
_ ** _Are you a saint or a sinner?_

  Your eyes were closed the first time you ever heard his voice. It had been eerily silent in the forest that day, the dense quiet disturbed only by the sound of your footsteps. You didn’t mind, however. It was not often that you experienced the pleasure of true silence within the human world - or heaven, for that matter - and you were taking the time to enjoy it. Even if the silence meant that whatever you had been hunting was not hunting you.

  You thought about calling the Winchesters, but disregarded the idea, almost with distaste. They had their own problems to attend to, and this small vampire clan was the least of them. Besides, you were an Angel of the Lord. If you could not handle these simply creatures - ones who probably could not even kill you - you had fallen far, indeed. You paused then, your ears having picked up a sound in the distance. That was when the vampires made their first mistake. They did not stop moving quick enough, and you heard one of them move.

  You hadn’t whirled around, hadn’t bothered to even look, you’d merely slipped your angel blade into one hand and gripped your shotgun in the other. You held still, listening to the perfect silence. Listening for the mistakes.

_CRACK_

  You whirled, throwing the blade - with enough precision and accuracy to scare any being - and firing the shotgun after it. Both projectiles met their mark. The vampire, most likely a fledgling, was too slow, too clumsy, to evade, and its head toppled to the ground within five seconds of you throwing the blade.  _One down,_  you thought, retrieving your blade,  _four to go._

  Just as you began to move further into the forest, you heard a scream. You whirled once more, turning in the direction of the sound and moving toward it quickly and quietly. It did not take you long to find the source.

  There were five of them - all roughly around the age of your vessel - standing back to back in a circle. They were seemingly armed with nothing but their fists against the four vampires surrounding them, but you knew better. These were not humans, but mutants. Despite this, you were not stupid enough to believe that these mutants who were clearly in over their heads, could handle four vampires. They were used to fighting their own, not the monsters of the Earth, and though vampires had similar abilities to many of their kind, vampires were a great deal more likely to rip them to shreds.

**_If love’s a fight  
_ _Then I shall die  
_ ** _With my heart on the trigger…_

  You slipped quietly into a better position, preparing to leap at the nearest vampire. You released a silent breath, then leapt, throwing your blade at one vampire and firing at another. The vampires lunged, the mutants dove. Chaos erupted, not that you minded. You were chaos. You thrived on it.

  Your blade found the head of one vampire, but your shotgun blast missed, hitting instead a tree. You swore, retrieving your blade as the three remaining vampires began to encircle you. You could see the mutants out of the corner of your eyes, watching, waiting, tense. Prey turned predator.  _Good,_  you thought, training your eyes back on the vampires,  _they at least know how to fight._

  You tightened your grip on your blade, preparing to swing. You knew you did not have much longer before the vampires attacked, and you knew that once they noticed the mutants, that’s who they would attack. The mutants were more likely to die than you. You also knew that your best odds of a quick fight was to make the first move. So, in order to keep their focus on you, you did the closest thing to a distraction that you could. You punched a vampire.

  Was it a wise move? Not at all. Did it startle the vampires? Immensely. Honestly. All this magic everyone uses and no one remembers that there are other techniques. You may as well have been fighting dirty. You grinned, eyes gleaming. That was one thing that set you apart from other angels, and ensured your friendship with the Winchesters. You lived for the hunt, for the fight. Unlike many angels, you had value for human life. And mutant life. To put it simply, you practiced basic human decency.

  You swung your blade at the stunned vampire, feeling the resistance as the blade bit through muscle, tissue, and bone.  _Three more._  The others were already moving toward you as the head toppled to the floor, and you dropped to a crouch, sticking your leg out and tripping up one before springing up and firing your gun at another. The first avoided your blade, but the second was not so lucky. The vampire caught the shotgun blast to the face, the creature’s skin ripping and tearing with each piece of shrapnel, and stumbled backwards. Right into the arms of the mutants.

  They pinned the vampire with ease, giving you the freedom to focus on the other two without worrying too much. This would definitely be interesting.

**_They say before you start a war,  
_ _You better know what you’re fighting for._ **

  You glanced back at the mutants one more time, catching a blur of silver out of the corner of your eye before turning your attention to the vampires fully. They could handle one vampire, no problem. You could handle two. No problem. You grinned, tightening your grip on your weapons. Then, you did the one thing that would be considered the stupidest move you could make. You closed your eyes. The vampires moved.

  Your fight was over in the next twenty seconds, but your eyes were still closed when one of the mutants screamed in pain.

“Behind you!” You whirled, your eyes flying open and your blade swinging through the air with such force that it creates a sound. You felt claws connect with your arm, digging into your flesh and tearing at your muscles, but the sensation did not last long. The claws fell away as the vampire’s head toppled to the ground, landing with a distinct  _thud_. You lifted your lowered head, eyes locking on the owner of the voice. You knew instantly this was the blur of silver you’d seen earlier. He was not silver, as you’d expected, but he was wearing quite a bit of it. Even his hair was silver, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was made of the stuff. And he was more attractive than any of the humans you’d seen so far. At least in your opinion.

  You tilted your head as the other mutants raised up from their hiding spots, mouths agape at the carnage you’d wrought.

“You… you  _killed_  them!” One of the mutants, a younger one with brown hair and a slim figure, exclaimed, her voice seemingly an octave higher than it should have been.

“Well, yes. What else would I do with vampires?” The girl stared at you for a moment, horror on her face. Another girl, a redhead, answered for her.

“We were taught never to kill. To always leave alive, and-” One of the others, a mutant with blue skin, a tail, and devilish features, piped up and interrupts the girl.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his accent prominent, “did you say  _vampires_? As in… fantasy creatures?” Oh, this would be so much _fun_  to explain.

**_Well, baby, you are all that I adore.  
_ _If love is what you need, a soldier I will be._ **

  You sigh, leaning back against the peeling wallpaper of the motel room and listening to the static drone of the TV as Sam and Dean discuss their latest hunt. Your mind was still on the group of mutants you’d helped in the forest, the way most of them had simply accepted the news of the existence of monsters. Then again many humans considered mutants monsters, so perhaps they were familiar with the concept. You let your mind wander further, let it land on the silver haired mutant, Peter.

_**I’m an angel with a shotgun,  
Fighting ‘til the war’s won,** _

_“Forget them, they’re shell-shocked. Thank you for intervening, we’d be dead if you hadn’t.” He extends a hand, and you tentatively take it. “I’m Peter.”_

_“Y/N.”_

_“Y/N,” he repeats your name absentmindedly, presumably committing it to memory, “we’re X-Men. This is…” He introduces the group behind him, dark eyes focused on you. You studied him, wondering why this particular mutant was so bold. Then again when Dean Winchester met Castiel he shot him several times, so perhaps there were some with a streak of boldness. “… and I presume you aren’t a mutant?”_

_“No.” You would have left it at that, but you could feel the question coming. “I’m an angel.”_

_“An angel?” Peter repeats, dark eyes narrowing slightly. “As in… white, fluffy wings, a harp, and pure souls, angel?” You let out a soft bark of laughter, shaking your head._

_“Angel of the Lord, yes. Pure soul? Christ, no. We’re more like… warriors. Wrath of God, ‘I will smite thee’ beings.” Peter flashes a grin, eyes raking over you._

_“I suppose I should’ve guessed that. Are all of you so…?” He waves his hands in a general motion, clearly struggling to find the proper word. For someone whose brain works faster than even yours, he doesn’t seem to try to hard to apply it to his vocabulary._

_“So grounded?” He nods, and you continue. “Blood of Christ, not at all. You’re actually kind of lucky it was me, not one of the others. Most angels are very high and mighty.”_

_“How so?” The redhead from before chimes in, eyes studying you with interest. “And why aren’t you?” You stare at her for a long moment, considering her question._

_“Perhaps because I gave up my position among their ranks a few years ago,” You answer the second of the girl’s two questions, ignoring the first completely. Peter stared at you with interest, opening his mouth to presumably ask yet another question. However, before he can continue, your phone rings. Dean. “I have to go,” you tell him, answering the phone, “if you need me, just pray to me. Angel Radio will pick it up.”_

_You fly away, disappearing without further explanation and leaving the mutants to their shock._

  You bring yourself back to reality, eyes focusing in on Sam and Dean once more as they turn to you for advice. It was something they did not do often, despite their clear need of help in certain situations. You answer them obligingly, giving various details on the species and how to kill them, as well as how to contain them for short periods of time. Suddenly, in the back of your mind, you hear your name. You pause, tuning into Angel Radio and listening carefully. The name of the caller comes to you instantly. Peter. You nod at Sam and Dean, then disappear once more, flying swiftly toward Peter’s location.

**_I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back.  
_ _I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe._ **

“Holy shit,” Peter steps back a few feet as you appear in the room with him, eyes wide, “it worked!” You tilt your head, crossing your arms.

“Did you really call me here to see if it would work?” He grins triumphantly and you sigh, shaking your head. “You do know I told you that so that you could use it when you were in danger, correct?”

“But I  _am_  in danger,” he whines, and you raise your eyebrows, “of dying of boredom.”

“I have a feeling, Peter Maximoff, that you’re completely impossible.” His grin widens.

“Probably. Are you going to help, or not?”

“You do realize that I have monsters to kill, right? Kind of helping hunters save the world?” You stare at him, eyebrow still raised.

“But I’m more important!” Peter exclaims, snatching a piece of paper from the bed not far from him. “I mean, just look at me! I’m a catch!” He pauses, staring at you for a moment. “Plus I need help with my calculus homework.”

“What makes you think I can do calculus?”

“So you agree I’m a catch?” He asks, eyes glinting slyly. You eye him up and down carefully.

“Not bad. Now, for fucks sake, focus.”

“Not bad?  _Not bad?_  I’m a hell of a lot better than not bad!” You sigh, shaking your head. You clearly weren’t going to be getting out of this interaction anytime soon, even if you really wanted to. You make a mental note to apologize to Sam and Dean later. “And I thought angels didn’t swear!”

“Do you want help with your stupid calculus or not?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t do calculus?”

“Shut up and give me the paper.” He laughs, handing over the paper and running around grabbing two pencils and some scratch paper. You sigh, sitting on the messy, unkempt bed and staring at the paper. Of all of the useless things you learned from Metatron, you never thought you would use  _calculus_ , of all things. “You’re lucky I wasn’t on a hunt, dipstick.”

_**Don’t you know you’re everything I have?  
** _ _**And I wanna live, not just survive tonight.** _

  You visited Peter more times than you expected in the following three months, roughly 47. Not that you were keeping count… Okay, maybe you were. But that was besides the point. You slowly grew more and more fond of the mutant and his friends, even going as far to teach some of them the basics of hunting in case you were not available to help in a situation, but most of your time was spent with Peter himself. You even took him with you on hunts sometimes, introducing him to Sam and Dean.

  The two of you argued frequently, seeing how far you could push each other’s buttons before Peter cracked a joke and sent you both into a fit of giggles.

“You know, for an angel who’s supposed to be serious, you’re very much a flirt.” You glance at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Me? Flirt with you? Hell no.” He laughs, and you shake your head.

“Was that supposed to be a pun, or…?” You stare at him for a long moment, the grin on his face making it impossible to concentrate for long.  _Stupid human feelings. I thought angels weren’t supposed to have these._

“Would you stay on topic for five seconds, Maximoff? Just five seconds.”

“If I stare at your pretty face for longer than five seconds, does that count as staying on topic?” You felt your face heat up and suddenly wished you were more like Castiel.

“No.” He pouts playfully, barely hiding the satisfied grin on his face.

“It counts.” You swear, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Shut up and let me finish this.”

**_Sometimes to win, you’ve got to sin.  
_ ** **_Don’t mean I’m not a believer.  
_ ** **_And major Tom will sing along.  
_ ** ****_Yeah, they still say I’m a dreamer._

  As more time went on, your friendship with Peter grew into something… less appropriate for being just friends, much less for an angel to partake in. You weren’t sure you cared, however. Your comrades in Heaven, however, did care. You just didn’t know it yet.

  Sam and Dean begin to take notice of yours and Peter’s relationship and tease you on a regular basis. Even Castiel joins in sometimes, commenting on how angels, by definition, shouldn’t have a relationship with a human of any sort. They all shut up rather quickly, however, when you point out the dance that Dean and Castiel do around each other. The X-Men were taking notice as well, but made no mention of it. The only one who dared address it was Charles, who merely winked at the two of you in passing.

“All I’m saying is that if the Wendigos were smarter, they wouldn’t lead you straight to their caves.” Peter crosses his arms, staring defiantly at two men and an angel. “This stinks of a trap. It’s probably not even a Wendigo.”

“The kid has a point, Dean.”

“The kid is a kid, Sam. And he has ADHD. Does he  _look_ like he’s taken his meds?”

“That’s the superspeed, dumbass,” you chime in, crossing your arms, “and I agree. This is all too staged, too convenient.” Dean sighs, crossing his arms.

“Who would go to all this trouble?”

“Who  _wouldn’t?_ ” No one says anything, and Peter smirks smugly. “Exactly. As much as you two don’t like to think about it, more than one thing has a vendetta against you. Including most angels.”

“Fine. So what do we prepare for then?” The annoyance at relinquishing victory clear in Dean’s voice.

“Everything,” Sam says, sighing, “absolutely everything.”

“I’m going too,” Peter says, stepping forward.

_**They say before you start a war,  
** **You better know what you’re fighting for.** _

“Oh no you aren’t! If this is a trap, you are definitely not coming.” The conviction in your voice takes Peter aback, but he continues.

“Why not? You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Not from you, Peter. Not this time. I don’t want you killed.”

“I won’t be-”

“You don’t know that! You aren’t me, and you aren’t those two dumbasses!”

“But I can-” You cut across him for a second time, eyes set dangerously.

“You aren’t coming, Peter. And that’s final.”

“ _Why not?_ ” He asks angrily, eyes blazing.

“Because I said so, dammit!” The words are a roar, and even Sam and Dean cringe away. “Just this once,” you say, your words shaky, “would you listen?” He crosses his arms angrily, and you turn away, walking toward the door.

“You should listen to Y/N, kid,” you hear Dean say quietly, “angels tend to know what they’re doing.”

“I don’t get it, you need help, so why-”

“You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” You close the door behind you, leaning against it. Dammit.

**_Well, baby, you are all that I adore.  
_ ** **_If love is what you need, a soldier I will be._ **

  You hover at the entrance to the caves, angel blade ready. You glance back at Sam and Dean, nodding slightly. They signal behind them, and Castiel appears. None of you are sure what lies within the cave, but you were all ready for just about anything. You slowly let out a breath, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the cave. It was time for the fun to begin.

  The four of you make it through the first set of tunnels without incident, which only increases the unease that has settled over you. Something was here, waiting for the four of you, you could feel it. You  _knew_  this wasn’t going to end well, and suddenly felt a rush of relief knowing you’d left Peter behind. Hopefully he wouldn’t be dumb enough to follow.

  As the four of you set foot in the near-pitch darkness of the main cavern, then freeze. Something’s off, and all of you can feel it. Suddenly a bright light fills the room, briefly blinding the four of you before dimming down to a manageable brightness.

“Hello Castiel, Y/N. Sam and Dean. Nice of you to show up.” In the center of the cavern stand several angels, the centermost being one with whom you are very familiar.

“Jophiel,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes, “what the hell is this?” You’ve known Jophiel for a millenia, fighting by his side in many battles, yet his presence here only increases your anxiety. There’s only one reason he would be here.

“An intervention,” he purrs, sauntering forward, “it appears that your superiors aren’t very happy with the way you and Castiel have been acting, Y/N.”

“Tell our “superiors” to go fuck themselves,” you growl, your grip on your angel blade tightening, “they can rot, for all I care.”

“Ah, see, that’s precisely the problem.”

“The only ones with a problem are you assholes,” you spit the words, and Castiel places a warning hand on your shoulder.

“The two of you,” Jophiel points his blade at Castiel and I, eyes gleaming, “have been cavorting with humans, and it will by  _extreme_  pleasure to drag your sorry asses back to Heaven to face Raphael’s judgement.”

  You take a deep breath, glancing back at Sam, Dean, and Castiel. They glance at each other and nod, their grips on their weapons tightening. You grin wildly at Jophiel, slipping into a fighting stance.

“What makes you think you’ll win, Jophiel? I always was more talented than you.” He sneers, eyes filled with malice.

“There are seven of us and four of you. Besides, the light of Heaven will always prevail.” Your grin widens, and Jophiel narrows his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, asshat.” You pull out your shotgun and fire into the line of angels.

**_I’m an angel with a shotgun,  
_ ** **_Fighting 'til the war’s won,  
_ ** ****_I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back._

  By the time the four of you manage to take down four of the seven angels you’re all tired and wounded from constant movement, but your eyes are ablaze from the adrenaline of battle.  _Three left_ , you think, swinging your blade at the nearest angel,  _just three._  You leave two of them to Sam, Dean, and Castiel, moving purposefully toward the third: Jophiel. His maniacal grin taunts you, and you know you won’t be able to leave him alive. Old friend or no, he was your enemy now. An enemy who clearly hates your guts.

  You aren’t sure exactly how long the combat lasts before Jophiel knocks you to the floor, but you do know that once you’re down your energy pours out of you.  _So this is where it ends,_  you think, staring into the hateful eyes of Jophiel.

“Don’t feel bad, Y/N,” Jophiel grins arrogantly, pointing his blade at your face, “you never stood a chance.”

“Think again, dickwad!” You hear his voice just before a silver blur tackles Jophiel to the ground.

“What the-” Jophiel never finishes his sentence, because Peter has his blade before he as any time to even counter the attack.

**_I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.  
_ ** **_Don’t you know you’re everything I have?  
_ ** ****_And I wanna live, not just survive tonight._

  Peter sinks the blade into Jophiel’s chest, and the angel lets out one final screech before dying. The other two follow suit, Sam and Dean sinking their own angel blades into the chests of the angel’s they’re battling. You eye Peter, a strange mixture of livid and overjoyed. Peter offers you his hand, and you take it.

“I can’t believe your dumb ass followed us after I told you not to! You could have  _died_ , Peter! You could have died and it would have been my fault you fucking dumbass! I hate you so much!” He stares at you for a moment, the angry expression written on your face, and then grins. “Stop grinning, dumbass!” You elbow him in the ribs and he doubles over, but the grin stays.

“Nice work, kid.” Dean approaches, followed by Sam and Castiel.

“Don’t encourage him, he-!” You don’t finish, for Peter presses his lips to yours, wrapping an arm around your waist. When he finally pulls away, you have tears streaking down your face. “Dumbass,” you mutter.

“Did I do something wrong, babe? I’m sorry-”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.” Peter rolls his eyes, grinning.

“If you insist.”

“I thought angels weren’t supposed to have feelings, Y/N,” Dean teases, and you flip him off with joy.

“Fuck off Dean, you’re just jealous I’m getting more action than you.” Castiel, to his credit, leans over and kisses Dean on the cheek, grinning spitefully at you. You look between Castiel and Dean and Peter, then shrug. “My boyfriend’s still better.”

**_I’m an angel with a shotgun,  
_ ** **_Fighting 'til the war’s won,  
_ ** ****_I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back._

  You lean against the wall of Charles’ office, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Peter scattered across the room. The five of you had shown up unexpectedly about ten minutes ago, bloody and tired, so of course chaos ensued. There had been a massive commotion about the amount of blood dripping from the various wounds of Sam, Dean, Castiel, and yourself, but you told them not to worry with you or Castiel, for as soon as you had more energy you could heal yourselves.

You stared expectantly at Charles Xavier, waiting to hear what he had to say about the whole situation. You’d explained as much as possible through telepathy, and he heard the rest from Peter, Sam, and Dean. You needed a place to lie low for a while, and this mansion is the perfect place.

“Of course you can stay here,” Charles says, eying the various people in the room before grinning at Dean, “however you’ll find we have no alcohol.” Dean groans and you grin, shaking your head.

“Thank you, Xavier.” He nods, and you slip out the door with Peter as he continues to explain more about the mansion to Sam, Dean, and Castiel. You turn your eyes to Peter, watching as he closes the door. Watching him move. You were going to miss him.

You recoiled at the thought, trying to shove it away, but something in you knew that you were right. You were going to have to leave him, taking his memories of you as you went. It was the only way, you reasoned, if Raphael was coming for you - and Castiel - the he would go for Peter, for all your friends here. And he would kill them to break you if you didn’t go with him. The best thing you could possibly do was erase his memories and go, but you didn’t want that. How could you? You were pretty sure what you were feeling was what humans referred to as love, and that scared you.

“Y/N, you coming?” You snap back into reality, eyes focusing on Peter. He’s halfway down the hallway now, looking back at you. You nod, wiping the momentary look of sadness from your face and replacing it with a smile.

“Yep, sorry. Got lost in thought, I guess.” You move over to him, eyes searching his face. For once, you can’t read his expression.

“Angel Radio saying anything?”

“They can’t find us,” you shrug, “and it’s driving them insane. The way the Professor has this place protected is preventing them from locating us.” You follow Peter to his room, head swimming. This wouldn’t end well, you could feel it.

**_I’m an angel with a shotgun,  
_ ** **_Fighting 'til the war’s won,  
_ ** ****_I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back._

  You stare at the ceiling through the darkness, listening to Peter’s breathing next to you. It’s been about a week, and you can’t get it out of your mind that you have to leave. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, opening them again as you slide out of the bed and out the door. You need to move, to do anything to distract you. Angels don’t technically need sleep, and, while you had slept during some of your nights in the mansion over the past week, it still felt odd to sleep. Although sleeping did give you a nice distraction from your ever-present thoughts.

  You move quietly down the halls without a destination, wandering aimlessly and listening to the night noises. It wasn’t fair to Xavier for the four of you to hide out here, you knew. It would be better if you disappeared quickly and quietly, leaving no trace. Castiel would be fine, you were sure. He was more respected than you, and more skilled. Besides, he’d managed to fall for one of the most unkillable hunters in history; you have no such luxury. Peter is far from invulnerable, and therefore could be used to get to you.

  What scared you the most about this, was the fact that you  _knew_  that you would throw your own life away for his. WIthout a moment’s hesitation.

 _You think too loud, my dear._  The voice rings through your brain, interrupting your thoughts. Xavier.

_Sorry, Xavier._

_Would you like to talk? Properly, I mean._  You sigh, considering your options. Then again, Xavier had once erased his love’s memories to protect her, so perhaps he could offer some sort of advice.

_Yes._

_Meet me in the library._

  You move quickly to the library, wondering how you’d managed to get yourself into this mess in the first place.  _Feelings,_  you think,  _I let myself have feelings._

  You enter the library, eyes searching for Xavier. It doesn’t take you long to find him, and you seat yourself across from him without a word. There’s a long silence before the Professor finally speaks.

“You really believe erasing everyone’s memories is the answer? That leaving will save them?”

“They’re safer if I’m gone,” you mutter, looking out the nearby window at the night sky.

“You’ll regret leaving him like you plan, you know. You’ll regret it until the day you die.”

“The way you regretted Moira?” Your eyes find his. His silence is answer enough. “It’s the only way, Xavier. The angels will just keep coming for him, for all of you, and I refuse to let any of you die for me. That’s something I will not allow, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

“Would you want me to…?” You can hear the hesitation in his tone, the skepticism as to the practicality of your plan.

“Not Peter. The others, yes. But Peter… I’ll do that myself.” There’s a long silence as you and the Professor stare at each other, a grim sort of understanding passing between you.

“Are you going to tell him?” Xavier finally asks. “Or even ask him what he thinks?”

“No,” you whisper, “because then he will tell me to stay and I will. Then both of us will be dead.”

_**I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.  
** _ _**Don’t you know you’re everything I have?** _

“I’m telling you it might be the only way-”

“And  _I’m_  telling you it’s not! This has to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever considered, Y/N.” You stare at Peter, making an effort to fight against the sheer anger exuding from him. All because you’d accidentally let slip that leaving might be the best option.

“No, what’s ridiculous is you not considering the fact that if I stay here you will never be safe. There will  _never_  be a time when you can leave the mansion without being on guard.” You were absolutely positive that half the mansion could hear this screaming match, but you didn’t care anymore.

“ _So?_  What’s the point of being safe if I can’t be with you?”

“The point is being  _alive_ , Peter! You’ve heard of the word alive. It means _living, not dead._ There is absolutely no point in you  _dying for me_!” He stares at me, eyes a painful mixture between hurt and anger.

“You’re telling me that you would-”

“I’m telling you that I’d rather be away from you and have you live than be here and have you dead.” Your voice barely passes above hearing volume, but the anger is there.

“Who said I’d die?” His voice is no more than a faint, harsh whisper, and it cuts into you like a knife.  _Why,_ you think,  _did I have to develop feelings? All they bring is pain._  You breathe in sharply, eyes searching his face.

“The angels will come for me, and they will not stop until I’m dead or in their hands - which is a death sentence anyway - and they will use anything they can get their hands on to ensure my destruction. You… you they can get their hands on. I will  _not_ have you or anyone else here hurt because they were protecting me.”  _This argument may never end._

“What good is it going to do any of us if you leave and get yourself killed, then? Then where will we be?”  _Alive._

_He’s never going to agree to this, and I’m not going to let him be killed._

“Fine,”  _so I might as well end it here,_  “I’ll stay.”

 _No,_ a voice in your head whispers,  _you won’t._

**_(I’m an angel with a shotgun)  
_ ** **_And I want to live, not just survive  
_ ** **_(Live, not just survive)  
_ ** ****_And I’m gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight_

  A month. That’s how long you gave yourself. A month to pretend to stay. To prepare. A month that’s now coming to a close. People always told you how a month was such a short amount of time. They were wrong. A month is an eternity. A painful, painful eternity. Sam, Dean, and Castiel left halfway through, disappearing to who knows where after you told them you were going to stay. You’d told them if they ever needed you simply to call, but that it wasn’t likely they’d ever see you again.

  Outside of that, the rest of the month had been relatively uneventful. Though you could feel the impending doom above your head. You look over your shoulder at Peter, who is playing PacMan. It’s not fair to him, you knew, you fell in love with him. You should’ve known from the start that this would crash and burn. Then again you should’ve known a lot,  but you’d thrown yourself headfirst into your relationship with Peter. And now you have to deal with the consequences of following human desires.

  You sigh, turning back to look out the small window at the Institute grounds below. You were going to miss this place. Miss the students, the noise, Professor Xavier. Though you would miss Peter the most, you knew.

  Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist, turning you around. Peter. You raise an eyebrow at him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders.

“You know what I just realized, Y/N?” His dark eyes are focused so intently on your face, so filled with adoration, that you almost look away.

“What’s that?”

“That I love you.”

_Oh, Peter, why did you have to say that?_

**_They say before you start a war,_ **

  You stare at Peter, mouth slightly agape from the shock.  Why did he have to say that, and now of all times?  You wrap your arms around him, not wanting to go through with your plan. Not anymore. God, you’d almost been ready. You could’ve left during your argument and it would be less painful than this, but if Peter was to live then it was the only way. There was no other choice; the archangels were coming for you, and they would not hesitate to kill Peter to get to you.

You pull away from the hug, planting a kiss on his lips before you could talk yourself out of it.

**_You better know what you’re fighting for._ **

“I love you too, Peter Maximoff.” His eyes widen, lips turning into a frown.

“Babe, of all of the thousands of times I’ve told you that, this is the first time you… what’s wrong?” You swear internally. Another thing you should have known: Peter knew you better than anyone else, of course he would see.

“I have to go, Peter,” you whisper, looking away, “and I couldn’t leave without saying it at least once.”

“Please, Y/N, you can’t leave, not after… not after that.” His voice is desperate, breaking.

“Do you think I want to leave?” Your tear filled eyes meet his, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you really think I want to leave?”

“Then don’t… Please.” You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“I have to, Pete.” You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair. “I love you,” you whisper, pulling away slightly, “I love you so damn much, Peter Maximoff.” His arms tighten around you, the desperation in his eyes growing.

“ _Please_.” His voice breaks.

“Goodbye, Peter.” You press your fingertips to his forehead, and his eyes turn glassy for a moment, then close. His arms fall to his sides and by the time his eyes open, you are gone. Along with his memories of you.

**_Well, baby, you are all that I adore._ **

  Sometimes you watch him from afar, making sure he’s still alive, unable to stay away from him. It hurts you to see him, but you watch anyway. You watch him laugh with his friends, have fun, live his life. You watch him fall in love with another, watch even as the sorrow and jealousy and regret swirled within you like a tempest.

**_If love is what you need,_ **

  And, sometimes, you weep for what you lost, what you destroyed to keep him safe, and when you weep, so does the sky. The sky cries and screams with you, a storm of hurt and regret. And sometimes, though you would never know, Peter wakes up and remember the ghost of your lips or the feel of your hands in his hair. He  remembers the smell of your hair and the shape of you underneath his fingers.

  Sometimes, you wish to go back and change it all, but you know you can’t. And so you remember the silver boy, and he remembers the angel with a shotgun before it slips from his memory again, and you both weep.

**_A soldier I will be._ **


End file.
